Unforgettable: Book Three (A Hollywood Love Story #3)(20)

A tap at the door brings me back to the present. My next client is here. My last one for the evening—it was a last-minute appointment. Scurrying over to the door, I swing it open. My heart practically stops and my knees wobble. I’m going to vomit.

“Zoey, this is your next client…Dick Long. He’s booked for a two-hour deep tissue massage,” says my lovely Asian colleague Esther, who, though blind, possesses renowned, magical hands.

Padding off with taps of her long white cane that can’t drown out my frantic heartbeat, she leaves me alone with him. I can’t get my mouth to move. I’m in a state of shock. All the air has left my lungs. I could possibly swoon.

It’s Brandon. All six-feet two of his manly perfection. We’re face to face, a strangled breath apart.

“Hi,” he says softly, fidgeting with the belt of his long white spa robe.

A painful tangle of emotions assaults me. I blink my eyes several times, not sure if I’m going to burst into tears or explode with anger. Finally, I get my mouth to move and I do the latter.

“What are you doing here?”

“Zoey, I had to see you.” He attempts to put his hands on my shoulders, but I hastily shove them away.

“Don’t you dare touch me.”

His eyes flutter. He looks taken aback. “I need a massage.”

“How the hell did you find me?”

“It wasn’t easy. Your father wouldn’t tell me nor would your brother. But I had a hunch. So I had my new assistant call every spa and massage joint in town. And then I found you.”

“Then she’s doing a good job.” A sickening feeling fills my chest. I’ve been replaced. I was replaceable. Doormats are a dime a dozen.

“Actually, she didn’t work out.” His violet eyes burn into mine. “Zoey, I want you back.”

Tears threaten. “So you can use and abuse me again?”

“Zoey, I didn’t mean to—”

“Break my heart?” I hurl the words at him.

“I’ve come to apologize. I never meant to hurt you.”

“Oh, it was accidental? Maybe with your amnesia, you forgot people have feelings?”

“I do have feelings toward you.”

“You could have fooled me. You’re some actor.”

“I swear to God, Zoey, I wasn’t acting. Everything I said and did with you was real.”

My eyes begin to sting. Rage is rising. “You and Katrina are two delusional peas in a pod. You belong together.”

“I can’t leave her.” He pauses for a sharp breath. “It’s complicated.”

That word again. A sorry excuse for an explanation.

“I have no choice. If I don’t marry her on Saturday, she’s threatened to say some horrific things about me to the press that could have dire consequences.”

My blood boils. His words make me sure that all the things he did to me he’s done to her. “Don’t you have all your submissives sign confidentiality agreements?”

Brandon’s face darkens. “She’s not my sub. Far from it.”

“Right, she’s your fiancée. Have you forgotten?” My harsh voice is dripping with sarcasm.

“Zoey, I swear she means nothing to me. I despise her. It’s only you. I think about you every minute of the day. You’re in my blood. You’re in my dreams. You have no idea how hard it’s been for me.”

His voice is cracking with emotion. He sounds sincere. And despair is etched on his gorgeous as ever face. I quickly remind myself he’s an actor. A great actor. Don’t fall for his bullshit, I will myself.

Rage crescendos inside me. “Brandon, stop feeding me this crap. Did they ever teach you in acting classes that actions speak louder than words?”

Without warning, he shoves me against a wall, pinning me against it with his hips and gripping my shoulders so tightly I wince. His body is so close to mine I feel the heat of his skin and smell the scent of his sex. My breasts compress against his iron chest, my nipples stiffening as he nuzzles my neck. I’m more aroused than a dog in heat.

“What are you f*cking doing?” I cry out.

“Zoey, you’ve touched me everywhere, but the place you’ve touched me deepest is here.”

Still pinning me to the wall, he cinches my right arm by the wrist and slips my hand between us, pressing it hard against his heart. I feel it pound beneath my palm. Perhaps, I should tell him to feel my heart. The shattered chambers. The shards.

“Let me go, you *!” I beg instead.

His mouth responds with a crashing, fiery kiss that blazes through me. Oh my God. I want him. No, I don’t. Yes, I do! This cruel game with a burning tightrope has no safety net. It threatens to destroy me. His rigid length singes my flesh right through his robe and my clothes. A ring of fire circles my core, and the white-hot heat radiates from my head to my toes. I succumb to the urgency of his mouth on mine with a moan.


He bites down on my lower lip, parting it, and then plunges his warm tongue inside my mouth, sweeping across the vessel, deepening the kiss with my submission. His other hand slips beneath the waistband of my uniform and makes its way to my wetness, caressing my slick cleft and aching clit. Flames lick my skin. I wriggle beneath his weight and moan louder. Oh God! What the f*ck am I doing? Why am I letting him do these things to me? Unable to resist, I squeeze my eyes shut until I’m seeing stars.